


Wondering what all this is for

by joannereads



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, OMC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joannereads/pseuds/joannereads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My follow up from 4x16, so if you haven't seen all of the last series of the greatest show on earth, you best not read this as it's going to spoil quite a lot of things! But I can't wait for the new series so I'm going to make up my own version!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the beginning, or is that the end?

“I wouldn’t expect anything more,” Donna snarks as Harvey smirks and drifts back into his office. Taking an obligatory moment to absorb the incredible view just once more, he doesn’t notice Mike follow him in.

“What was that about?” Mike asks, gesturing through the glass doors at Donna.

“Never you mind,” she retorts before stalking off down the corridor. Mike takes a second to adjust to Donna walking away.

“What’s going on?” Mike asks, again trying to capture Harvey’s attention. That’s when he notices the strange expression on the other man’s face. Tired eyes, pale skin, he looks worn out.

“Donna left me,” Harvey says simply, before sitting behind his desk and thumbing through a file. Three little words but they hurt his heart to say.

“Left . . . you?” Mike splutters. To say he’s shocked is an understatement. “She wouldn’t—”

“But she did,” Harvey silences him, an icy glare accompanies the hard tone. “She works for Louis now. Did you need something?”

Does he need something? Inside, Mike’s mind spins at the thought of Donna leaving Harvey. It is unfathomable.

“What did you do?” Mike asks then, surety colouring his words. He folds his arms across his chest and gives his boss the steeliest gaze he can manage.

“What makes you think this is my fault?” Harvey demands, a smirk on his own face as he stares the younger man down. This time, Mike doesn’t budge, and it unsettles him. Did Donna take his power with her when she sashayed away?

“Because sometimes you can be an emotionally stunted child, Harvey. Because you bottle stuff up until it comes out the wrong way and pisses people off so that they want to teach you a lesson.”

“Say what you mean, Mike,” Harvey mutters. Mike draws a deep breath and sinks into the chair in front of Harvey’s desk.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Harvey is still, quiet. “No,” he finally answers, because there is nothing he wants to do less than dwell on his feelings. He is hurt, sure, but Donna will come back when she misses him.

God he hopes that is true.

“What did you need, Mike?”

“I had some news, but it can wait,” Mike says, standing to leave.

“You’re here early, Monday, to speak to me. It must be important. Did someone else find out? Do I have another fire to put out to save your sorry ass—”

“Rachel and I are getting married,” Mike blurts. He waits for a reaction. There is none. “I know this might seem out of the blue, especially with everything with Logan, but we’re ready. I asked, she said yes.”

More silence. Harvey’s jaw is clenched tightly. Mike knows that Harvey needs time to process, and right now this probably seems like he is rubbing Harvey’s nose in it. But he wants to celebrate this with a friend, and Harvey is the closest, make that only, thing he has which remotely fits in the ‘friend’ column.

“Congratulations. I hope the preparations don’t interfere with work.”

Mike laughs then, a hearty and full bodied laugh which startles Harvey.

“What?” he demands, his eyes tight.

“Work first, I get it, but being a little happy for us wouldn’t kill you!”

“Sorry, I’ll try. Guess I don’t get why people would want to get married, especially given your history. But if it’s what you want then I’m happy for you.”

Mike knows, deep down, that Harvey’s reaction is driven by his hurt over the thing with Donna.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Mike suggests, “Dinner’s on me. We can celebrate and commiserate and just get out of work.”

“Sure,” Harvey agrees after a moment or two, because he might not want to talk about his feelings but he wants to go home alone even less tonight. “Pick a place. Let’s say eight so we can be done here.”

“Sure, boss. Eight.” Mike leaves then. Another person walking away from Harvey. God, he feels like shit. What the hell has happened to him in the last three days? He told Donna he loved her, because he knew she wanted to hear it and, for the most part, it is true. He loves her, she’s the closest thing he has to family and he would do anything for her.

Except pretend he was _in love_ with her.

He knows he might have been, once upon a while ago. But now? He misses her already and he finds himself thinking about her every five seconds or so. Yet there’s nothing more. She hasn’t turned him on in months. He hasn’t thought of her with his hand wrapped around himself for longer.

So, no, he isn’t in love with her, and it would have been cruel to pretend differently.

Harvey knows that this is a test. She wants to see if he misses her so goddamn much that he goes after her, pursues her, wants her. This is a test to see if he can love her.

He’s going to fail.

“Shit.” He buries his face in his hands for a moment. He’s left the recruitment of his new assistant up to Donna, which might have been a mistake but he doesn’t trust anyone else.  He prays for a moment that she doesn’t use this as a way to screw him over, before turning his attention back to the file in front of him. He has to work, now more than ever, because the idea of losing Donna permanently terrifies him.

 

~*~

 

The steak is delicious, absolutely delicious. It melts in Harvey’s mouth and he knows that it’s the best steak he’s had in a months and he’s trying desperately to enjoy it. For his part, Mike clearly is. He moaned around the first mouthful but has managed to be a little more civilised since.

“So, how was your day?” Mike asks. Harvey doesn’t know how to answer so he shrugs.

“Quiet, I guess,” he adds to the non-committal shrug.

“Did Louis come to gloat?” Mike wonders aloud, and then wishes he had only wondered it in his head.

“No,” Harvey concedes with a small smile. “He stopped by with information for a case, but managed not to be a dick. When I’m less pissed at Donna I might thank him for it.”

Mike smiles at him, at his honesty, and he ducks his head—embarrassed isn’t a good look on him.

“Good to hear. Rachel said she spoke to you.”

“I managed to congratulate her without being an insensitive ass, yes,” Harvey grins, “Told her she was lucky to have you.”

“More like I’m lucky to have her,” Mike smiles and Harvey makes a non-committal grunt to the same effect. She cheated on him, and while Mike seems to have forgiven her, Harvey’s always going to be a little pissed at her for that.

And yet, he has no idea why. She didn’t betray him. Donna would say he’s projecting, and she’d probably be right.

“Hey!” Mike says, waving his hand in front of Harvey’s face and laughing. “Where d’you go?” he laughs again.

“Sorry, was thinking about the case. Rachel seemed happy, more relaxed. If I was reading her right, that is,” Harvey smirks knowingly.

 

Harvey downs his fourth—fifth?—glass of scotch and tries desperately to forget that everyone is leaving him. Mike has talked animatedly for the last forty minutes about a film he had seen recently which he thought Harvey would love. For the last twenty minutes of that time, Harvey has been playing options through his mind. The waitress is hot, but far too young. He wants a little experience tonight if he is going to forget the mess that is his life right now.

“So, Harvey. There was something I wanted to ask you.” Mike’s sudden change of topic and tone shoot through Harvey’s reverie and he stares at the younger man in front of him. He reads people, and Mike is terrified.

“You know that, other than Rachel and Donna, you are the most important person in my life. You are my family.” He pauses, coughs a little at Harvey’s intense stare. “Would you be my best man?” Mike asks, his breath suddenly short.

Harvey is caught unaware. Which is ridiculous, because anyone with half a brain would have known that Mike was going to ask this of him, and it should be a slam dunk of a decision. Of course he would be Mike’s best man. So what is tying his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

“Look, I get that you might want to think about it,” Mike continues, sounding hurt. Harvey had said yes to Louis in an instant, thought nothing of the question. He has to answer before he makes this situation worse and drives someone else away.

“Of course I’ll do it, Mike,” he smiles, eager to please Mike—after all, they are the closest friends the other has. Something unpleasant slithers about in his gut but he washes it away with a mouthful of scotch and a hearty pat to Mike’s back. Mike doesn’t see the tension in Harvey’s eyes, or the rigidity in his gait. Or he chooses to ignore it. Whichever it is, Harvey is glad that he can have a little time to sort his head out without Mike calling him on it.

“Shall we grab a cab, head home?” Mike asks.

“Night’s still young, Ross. I’m not done celebrating yet, even if you are.”

“Rachel’s waiting,” Mike smiles sheepishly and Harvey nods.

“Of course. See you in the morning.” Harvey shakes Mike’s hand and lets him go.

 

Perhaps another scotch was a bad idea. The alcohol burns in his stomach and his eyes itch with fatigue. But the man in front of him is hot and Harvey can’t find it within himself to turn him down. He hails a cab and they slip into the relative darkness. Harvey gives the driver the address of his condo. The man—kid? How old is he after all? And what did he say his name was? Dan? Max? Adam? Shit!—gets handsy and begins touching Harvey’s thigh with nimble fingers. Harvey closes his eyes and sinks into the tacky leather of the seat, enjoying the heat of another hand on him.

“Hey, Harvey?” the man—Dan, Harvey’s sure now—whispers in his ear.

“Mmm?” Harvey hums, relishing the caress as it inches slowly towards his cock.

“Is this your first time?” Dan asks.

“No,” Harvey laughs softly. “What makes you ask?”

“You seem distant. If you aren’t sure you want this, I’ll head home. It’s not too late.”

Dan is remarkably perceptive, but Harvey sure as hell isn’t giving up on a night of debauchery just because he’s failing to keep his emotions in check.

“Long day, sorry,” he grins, turning the full power of it on his companion. “Just want to forget about it, to be honest.” There, he gave a little something up. It wasn’t important or revealing, but it should be just enough to hook this guy for the next few hours. “Think you’re up to it?” he asks, the icing on the cake of his manipulation.

“Sure,” Dan huffs onto Harvey’s neck as he begins to press hot kisses to the underside of a strong jaw.

Once more, Harvey settles into the sensation of it, eyes closed. Dan’s fingers slip a little closer to his crotch and Harvey smiles into the darkness.

 

Within seconds of stepping through the door, Harvey presses Dan against the wall and begins to fumble with the younger man’s jeans.

“Hey, there’s no rush!” Dan laughs.

“Thought you said you could handle this,” Harvey states, eyebrow raised in challenge. Dan smiles then and flips open the button of his jeans himself.

“Have at it,” he gestures, and Harvey sinks unceremoniously to his knees. He tugs at the thick denim and the close fitting shorts beneath, until Dan’s thick cock springs free from his pants. Oh god! It’s been such a long time since Harvey had cock. Months, maybe even a year or so. A long line of women have passed through his life, but cock has taken a backseat.

He licks around the purplish head in front of him before running his tongue down the vein on the underside and burying his nose in the neatly trimmed, dark curls. Dan gasps as Harvey runs his fingers along the crease of his butt, and circles the tight hole of his ass as he finally takes the whole cock in his mouth, opening his throat to the salty taste of it.

“Shit!” Dan gasps, and Harvey smiles around the swollen member in his mouth, before sucking enthusiastically. He hollows his cheeks and allows Dan to fuck into him a little, changing the friction and contact every few strokes to keep it interesting. He wipes around his mouth to gather a little spit on the ends of his fingers, before he resumes massaging Dan’s asshole. He has a one track mind, and that is getting laid. Yeah, right now it seems to be all about the guy towering over him and panting heavily, but getting his own cock deep in the ass attached to the man is the most important goal.

 

Dan tugs at Harvey’s hair and he knows he must be close. He sucks hard for a few more strokes and, at the tell-tale twitch in his mouth, withdraws and pumps with his hand another couple of times, before Dan is coming, spilling all over Harvey’s fist and onto his shirt. Harvey grins—he still has it.

“Damn, you’re good.”

Harvey laughs at the comment before standing up. He grabs Dan’s hand with his own non-sticky one and tugs him towards the bedroom.

“Not done with you yet,” he says, and Dan’s breath hitches slightly.

“What have I done?” he mutters, but it’s an excited mutter and Harvey isn’t worried. He does stop, though, and turns to look at Dan. Dark green eyes, brown hair, with the beginnings of crow’s feet, Harvey has, maybe, seven or eight years on this guy.

“You want to go?” he asks, though he knows what the answer will be.

“Hell no,” Dan laughs and pushes Harvey in the direction they were heading.

 

As they step through the threshold into Harvey’s bedroom, he hears Dan’s swallow.

“Damn, this place is all glass isn’t it?”

Harvey laughs.

“Bit more than you’re used to?” Harvey asks, tugging off his tie and beginning with the buttons on his own shirt.

“You could say that.”

Harvey realises then that he doesn’t want to know anything more about Dan’s life, and instead presses his lips to Dan’s neck in the hope of distracting him. It works, and Dan is suddenly focused on getting rid of his own clothes.

It takes only moments, and they are both completely naked and lying on Harvey’s particularly large bed. Harvey reaches into the dresser and finds the bottle of lube and a condom. He glances down and realises Dan is watching him, pupils blown wide.

“I wanna suck you,” Dan says, his words slurring together.

“Just want to fuck you,” Harvey says simply, and Dan nods even though he is clearly disappointed. Harvey slicks up his fingers and presses one quickly to the ring of muscle that is Dan’s ass. The younger man gasps and writhes as Harvey increases his ministrations. Harvey’s cock is impossibly hard. He hadn’t realised how long it had been since he had a good fuck. His own fist in the shower just wasn’t good enough after a while.

 

“Ready, Harvey, ready,” Dan gasps, his own dick now hard again. Harvey unrolls the condom and slides it down his shaft, fisting himself pleasantly at the same time. It feels good—so good—that he forgets for a moment that he has a ready and waiting ass to take.

“Jesus, you look good,” Dan says, snapping Harvey’s attention back to him. He lines the head of his cock up at Dan’s entrance before pushing in slowly, deliciously, enjoying the tight heat as it surrounds him completely.

 

He begins to thrust slowly, enjoying the gentle build of pleasure in every cell. Dan fists the sheets and pants delightfully and Harvey increases the pace, pounding hard into the body beneath him. His climax begins to race through him. Every sensation sings in his belly. His cock throbs and pulses. He slowly sinks into the stupor of good sex. Then he’s there, on the precipice, and he clenches his eyes shut tightly as he comes, his dick buried deep in the body below him. His brain supplies an image, of a blonde man with bright blue eyes and a face, flushed from the exertion of sex. As Dan’s ass milks the very last of his orgasm from within him, his eyes snap wide open.

 

Dan moans at the loss of contact as Harvey withdraws suddenly.

“Show yourself out,” he gasps, before locking himself in the bathroom. He flicks the shower on as hot as he can bare and slips beneath the jets, feeling every droplet of water as it beats down upon him.

“What the hell?” he mutters, forehead pressed against the tile. Dan was great, everything he looked for in a guy. So why the imagery? He replayed the last few minutes, Dan’s moans echoing in his ears. But all he could see was Mike. Mike below him, Mike writhing and gasping and clawing at him.

 

Distantly he hears the door slam. He doesn’t care. His dick is hard again, aching and bobbing and desperate for contact. With Mike’s name on his lips and Mike’s face in his head, he runs a hand lazily up and down his cock until lazy becomes frantic, whispers become moans, and Harvey is coming once more. The water runs cooler. His dick hangs limp and spent between his thighs. And Harvey sobs. Sobs for the loss of Donna, for the loss of his old life, and sobs for the loss of Mike.

How the hell did things get to be such a mess?


	2. On the outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tangled web of Harvey's interpersonal relationships begins to unravel, and he along with it.  
> Oh, and smut, of course!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed and unproofed - so please ignore typos and the like. I wanted to get an update out (and it's a pretty long update as I'm not sure when I'll get the chance to write the next one). Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated :)

Amy is waiting for Harvey. She sees him as he strolls towards her, all swagger and arrogance. Just how she likes them—a completely confident man is one she can understand. He sees her from a few feet away and there is a slight falter in his steps before he continues towards her.

“So, you’re the one Donna decided was good enough to replace her?” he asks, though it’s more of a rhetorical question.

“Coffee,” she says and hands him the paper cup. He takes it and sips slowly, watching her over the lid of the cup. His eyebrows raise a little in acknowledgement—the perfect amount of vanilla.

“Donna,” he sighs wistfully. Amy simply nods in agreement before handing him three folders.

“You have Emerson at ten, Nicholson at two, and dinner with Partridge at seven. You have a table booked at The Globe. I booked for four in case you were planning on taking Mike or Rachel. Partridge is bringing his girlfriend so you might want some company. And Jessica wanted to know if you had some time this morning. I told her that you had a conference call and you’d try to get there. Mike sent the files for Walters tomorrow. I told him to stop being so over eager and he said he’d leave them on your desk regardless. Rachel’s at school until one, and Louis has already been by twice to ask for you. You are out of the office. Will there be anything else?” She oozes calm confidence, even though inside there is a slight humming in her chest where adrenaline surges at this first meeting.

Donna briefed her the moment she arrived. She rehearsed over and over in her head before Harvey arrivd. Everything hinges on the next three seconds.

“Name?”

“Amy.”

“Of course. Let Mike know I’m in, I need to speak to him about Emerson.”

Amy simply nods and turns around. Harvey strolls past her and in to his office. She flicks on the intercom as Donna had told her to, it will be vital to increasing her awesomeness, then dials for Mike. She smiles. She’s in.

 

Harvey turns his chair away from the office corridors and gazes out over the view that he wanted for such a desperately long time. Today it feels empty, showy. Soothing though, because it’s part of him now. This office and this view. He can hear the low tones of Amy in the corridor outside and he is strangely calmed. She is no Donna, but she’ll certainly fill the gap until Donna realises that she can’t work for anyone else.

 

“Hey, Harvey. Amy called.” Mike steps into the office and smiles lightly. Harvey bites back the mental images his brain has been generating for the last eight hours. He tries to dredge up Dan’s face, but it is nothing more than a hazy shadow in his memory.

“Emerson is in at ten, I want you in with me.”

“Really?” Mike asks. “Thought you’d have that all sewn up!” Harvey watches as Mike sinks slowly into the chair facing his desk.

“I do, but you’ve done most of the grunt work on this merger, so I thought you might like to take lead. I can just sit back and watch,” Harvey quips, pushing back a little in his chair and opening the button on his jacket. Mike’s eyes flicker a little, distracted by the movement, but he certainly doesn’t stare. Harvey isn’t sure if he is relieved or disappointed, and so fights to get his mind back in the game.

“Okay, no problem. We’re only reviewing financials and confirming property details. You don’t have to sit in at all if you’ve got better things to do?”

In his mind, Harvey knows it makes sense to just leave Mike to it, but he can’t.

“Need to be there to make sure you don’t screw it up.” Harvey tries to be throw away, but he knows in the moment that he’s hurt Mike’s feelings. He can’t take it back and he can’t change it—got to be himself after all. “Conference room C. See you at ten.”

Mike feels his dismissal as much as he hears it and, ignoring the stab of irritation, heaves himself back up and out of the office.

“He’s his usual, thoughtful self,” Mike quips as he passes Amy. She looks up at him and her smile, familiar yet out of place, sets his teeth on edge.

“No worse than the last guy I worked for,” she retorts, “Or the one before that.” The wink that accompanies the sarcastic dig only dusts off the edges of Mike’s discomfort. Harvey without Donna is like the beach without an ocean—it'sjust wrong.

“Sure,” he replies, not really a participant in the conversation anymore. Without experiencing the journey, he arrives back in his office. There was something different about Harvey this morning, something that he can’t quite put his finger on. Sure, he was bitter and angry over Donna’s betrayal, but there was something else. Mike feels it, viscerally, because he knows Harvey well now. Resolving to try and spend more time with his boss away from work to try and unpick the issue, he turns his attention back to the files on his desk. Every partner and their dog is pushing for Mike to give them some of his time.

 

After lunch, Harvey decides he can’t take being in the office anymore.

“Amy?” he calls. He has managed, for the first time all day, to get her name right first time. To her credit, she hasn’t batted an eyelid when he has called her Donna. She understands it’s instinct and, when she has made her mark on him, she hopes that she will become his new instinct. Until then, she shrugs it off.

“Yes, Harvey?” She has sashayed over to his door way, determined to have as much face time with the man as possible to begin to imprint herself onto him.

“Rearrange Nicholson. Ask him to meet me downtown, at the Shelby. I have some other things to attend to while I’m there. And call Ray.”

“Done,” she says, turning away. Amy knows that Harvey has absolutely no business anywhere near the Shelby Coffee Lounge. She also knows that he needs to get out. He’s been a caged animal on steroids all day and, if she’s brutally honest, she could do with the break from him herself. Donna’s filing system is something to behold, but it’s not hers, and she needs time to get it straightened out.

 

Ray is at the kerbside, door of the town car already open.

“Afternoon,” he smiles. Harvey slips him a new CD and Ray glances at it, his eyebrows raised in appreciation. Mamie Smith, a legend. “Interesting choice,” Ray quips as he closes the door.

“No rush,” Harvey says over the soft music. Ray nods and glides out into the traffic. Harvey, meanwhile, allows his brain to take over and his thoughts whirl about inside him.

He feels lost—not a feeling he is at all accustomed to. He has no idea what he needs to right himself, but he has to find something soon. It is becoming increasingly clear that Donna has no plans to forgive him and come back any time soon (he had witnessed her and Louis giggling in his office on the way out—it made him feel sick in a new and very unpleasant way), so that’s not going to be the solution.

The journey takes little over half an hour. Ray has taken it easy, taken the long route round. But Harvey still has a forty-five minute wait before his client will arrive. He slips into a dark booth at the back of the Shelby Lounge. Neither classy nor cheap, Shelby is privately owned and oozes taste. Harvey had brought Mike once, who had appreciated it in his own way (by mocking the lighting, the atmosphere and the coffee) and they hadn’t returned. This was Harvey’s space, a hang-over from his days at the DA's office, where this was as classy as he could get.

Slowly, Harvey sips a coffee and nibbles at a delicious muffin that just can’t take the edge off the empty feeling in his gut. In fact, his thoughts are so aimless that he drifts away, not even noticing when Adam Nicholson arrives.

“Harvey?” Adam repeats, finally capturing the lawyers attention.

“Sorry, Adam. Crazy case seems to be taking over.” Harvey smiles apologetically as he rises, shakes Adam’s hand, and gestures for him to sit. He summons a waitress and gets Adam’s order quickly.

“What’s the case?” Adam asks conversationally, but Harvey can’t face idle chit-chat or lying to cover up for a lie, so he deflects.

“Nothing I can’t win,” he inserts a self-deprecating laugh. “What do you need, Adam?” Harvey lifts his mug to his lips and savours the slide of good, warm coffee while he waits for Adam to gather his thoughts.

“I need you to recommend a lawyer,” Adam replies—which startles Harvey a lot.

“I’m a lawyer,” he responds immediately.

“No. You’re a great lawyer, Harvey, really. But this isn’t your sort of case. I need—” A shaky breath, an eye rub. “A divorce lawyer, Harvey. Marie and I are separating and I don’t want the lying, cheating, money-grabbing bitch getting one penny of the business my father built.”

 

Harvey is weary. It’s bone deep. He refused to suggest anyone other than himself. He may be a corporate lawyer but a marriage is just another merger to dismantle, another company to decimate, and he knew he could handle it. However, it meant that the meeting took three and half hours in the end—not the twenty minutes Harvey had hoped for—and now he barely has chance to get home to change before meeting Daniel Partridge and his girlfriend-of-the-week for dinner.

 

And Amy invited Mike.

 

True, Rachel has a huge assignment due and has mock trials at Columbia to prepare for, as well as her associate work for him. But Mike? He could have done without that right now. Still unable to process what happened the night before, Harvey has spent the day simply pretending it didn’t happen and that Mike didn’t exist. That is going to be particularly difficult for the next three hours.

Harvey rapidly ties his tie and throws on a clean jacket. He managed a shower in record time, and a more appropriate suit, before he’s out of the door again. He doesn’t notice Mike leaning on the town car until he’s almost on top of him.

“I was in the area,” Mike grins, “Thought it made sense to go ahead together. You can brief me on the reason for the dinner meeting.” His smile—honest, genuine, thoughtful—wraps itself deliciously around his words, and Harvey is immediately distracted.

“Sure,” he manages. It’s hard not to notice Mike’s concerned frown, though he tries to hide it quickly. Harvey rubs his face. “Sorry,” he apologises, truly not wanting to be a dick. “Meeting with Nicholson was a bitch. It’s going to be a messy divorce.”

Mike steps around the car and slides in, acknowledging Harvey’s apology and confession with a tight, short nod. That seems the most appropriate response and Harvey is at once grateful and relieved.

They travel in silence. Every mile that passes, Harvey feels more and more aware of Mike’s presence in the car. Mike, for his part, seems to be allowing Harvey time alone with his thoughts. While he probably thinks this is for the best, that he needs to process the afternoon and move past it for the evening, really it only serves to feed Harvey’s own uncertainties towards Mike.

Dinner is only made more uncomfortable by the presence of Bambi (or whatever her ridiculous name was). She flirts shamelessly with Harvey— _like all women_ , Mike mutters in humour, Harvey doesn’t see the funny side—and Partridge either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. In a desperate bid to keep her at bay, Harvey knocks his wine glass over and sends a puddle of white wine across the table towards her. It doesn’t work (“Oh, who minds about a little wet patch?” she had giggled lasciviously before winking and licking her lips), and Harvey is both frustrated and distracted in equal measures.

Two-thirds of the way through dinner, before the ridiculously sugary desserts they have ordered have chance to arrive, Mike smoothly takes over the meeting. He has, of course, read every file necessary and knows what to say. But it isn’t nerves over dealing with the client that is churning Mike’s stomach—Harvey isn’t present. He isn’t _Harvey_ and it’s freaking Mike out.

Before Partridge can enforce coffee on them, Mike apologises and says they must leave as they have court the following morning. Harvey agrees half-heartedly, pays for dinner with his corporate card, and follows Mike out of the restaurant. Somehow, Ray is already there.

“Harvey? I have no idea what’s going to but you need to get your head out of your ass and back in the game.” The words cut through him and Harvey finally wakes up.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Mike. One long day with one shitty client meeting and you throw a paddy. When you’re pulling in millions in billables you can criticise me. Until then, get _your_ head out of _your_ ass and get those documents drafted. Goodnight.”

Without a glance at the now cowed junior associate, Harvey slips into the car and Ray pulls away swiftly. Mike stares after the car as it disappears into the late evening traffic of New York. “Damn,” he curses softly. He lifts his own arm for a cab home to Rachel—his fiancée—who he needs to brief about Harvey’s weirdness to make sure she doesn’t end up baring the brunt of it.

 

“Home, Harvey?” Ray asks.

Harvey considers it for a few moments. He loves his condo, but it’s quiet and empty. He needs a distraction from the shitstorm his life is brewing for him.

“No. Let’s head to Mantandros.”

Ray raises an eyebrow—Harvey hasn’t hit this particular gay-bar in a while—but says nothing. He takes the next few turns and changes direction. It isn’t Ray’s place to question the decisions of the man who basically keeps a roof over his head and food on his table, but it’s clear Donna’s leaving has upset Harvey’s equilibrium.

 

The club is poorly lit, Harvey doesn’t care. He orders a scotch and sits at the bar. He knows he’s hot, and so he makes no effort to pursue anyone. He just sits and sips and waits.

It takes less than twenty minutes before a dark haired, dark eyed kid approaches him. It’s hard not to appreciate the kid’s ambition—landing a guy like Harvey would be a serious notch in the bed post—but Harvey’s not feeling it. Instead, he waits another hour before a blonde, probably in his late twenties, approaches. He’s more muscled than Harvey usually likes, but he just wants to get off and get home. So he allows the stranger to shove his tongue down his throat. The other guy, who Harvey is fairly certain has a name even if he hasn’t actually heard it, has a fairly talented tongue. Secretly he hopes it’s not the only talented part of him.

“Bathroom,” Harvey mutters into the other man’s ear, then heads towards the restrooms at the back of the building without waiting to make sure that he is being followed. He knows he is.

 

“So, how do you want to do this?” the other guy asks.

“You shut up, you fuck me, we go home and sleep soundly in our own beds.” Harvey’s words are hardly romantic, but they ignite a spark of lust in the other man’s eyes that shows Harvey he was right. This guy wants to top and Harvey is in the mood to relinquish all control.

“Can do,” the guy says, before pushing Harvey roughly into a stall. He puts that talented tongue to good use as he sinks to his knees on the disgusting tiled floor, releasing Harvey’s half hard cock and mouthing at it until it rises to the game.

As Harvey’s cock is sucked and his ass probed by blunt, spit-slick fingers, all he can think of is Mike. He tries desperately to shove the younger man’s face from his mind, but nothing he does works.

“You ready?” the man asks, dark but patient. Harvey nods and turns, his trousers and boxers wrapped pathetically around his ankles. He feels the hot head of a rubbered cock as it presses against his entrance. He blows out slowly and relaxes as much as he can at the intrusion. It’s been so long since he bottomed that he can’t remember the face of the man that took him. Though, to be fair, he can’t remember the face of the man behind him either, so perhaps that’s no great measure.

The thrusts are tentative at first, matched with small gasps of ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ and ‘so tight’, before the man behind him settles into a more punishing rhythm. Harvey doesn’t care—pushing back into each thrust in a desperate bid to shut off his over-active mind. He knows the guy is close when he wraps an arm around Harvey to jerk him off. Harvey pushes him away, choosing instead to slide his own hand up and down his aching, throbbing dick.

_Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike._

The chant in his head is relentless as his wrist flicks and twist.

“Now, going to come now!” gasps the man behind him whose name and face he doesn’t remember. Harvey’s chin drops to his chest as he focuses on the sensation of being completely full and watches his hand beat on his own cock. With three more panting, desperate thrusts, the man behind gasps out an orgasm and Harvey works hard to keep up.

“Shit, you gonna come or what?” the man asks, his cock rapidly softening in Harvey’s ass. His voice, coarse and dark, tugs Harvey out of his reverie and the threads of his orgasm slip away.

“Fuck,” he whispers, stilling his hand and resting his forehead on the stall wall. He feels the man slip from within him, hears his zip himself up, before he presses his hands to his hips and turns him around.

“Let me,” he says, stopping Harvey from tucking himself away.

Back on his knees, the man wraps his deliciously talented mouth around Harvey’s now far more interested cock, and Harvey closes his eyes as he enjoys the sensation of being swallowed down. It takes a few minutes, but his orgasm returns and—with a tug on the man’s hair to allow him to pull off—he is able to jerk himself to satisfaction.

The man is gone before Harvey is even decent.

“Serves me right,” he mutters to himself, his mind flitting back to his dismissal of Dan the night before.

He steps out of the stall and into the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror startles him. Ashen faced and weary, the Harvey in the mirror looks ten years older. And lost. And sad.

He is so screwed.

 

“What do you mean he’s punishing himself?” Rachel asks from the bedroom. She is stripping down to comfortable pyjamas after arriving home from the office. She is tired and just wants to sleep, but Mike is distracted and needs to talk it out. She would do anything for him, so she listens even when she doesn’t feel like she can fit anything more into her brain.

“Donna’s gone. He thinks it’s his fault, which it is if we’re truly honest about things. So he’s punishing himself. Which means he will also punish us and that’s something we need to watch out for.” Mike smiles a little and Rachel returns it shyly.

“Maybe he needs to get out, find himself a girlfriend?” Rachel suggests. Mike’s smile changes a little, and he tilts his head as he regards her, then he sucks in a deep breath.

“Or a boyfriend,” he says quietly. He feels rather than sees Rachel’s shock. She sinks on to the couch next to him and stares, her eyes burning into the side of his face until he turns.

“Seriously?” she asks. Mike knows there’s no going back now and he nods slowly.

“Yes.” God, he has no idea what to say next.

“Spill. How do you know? What do you know? Harvey? I mean . . . Harvey?”

Mike laughs then and he drags Rachel into his arms. She snuggles into him, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“I suspected a while,” he begins. “Then, after the shit with Darby was finally over, he took me out to celebrate. We hit a few bars and Harvey got progressively drunker. I was done, heading home. He said he was going to stop off on his way and I was worried. I followed him.” Not his finest moment, he would be the first to admit, but he had never seen Harvey so open, or drunk, and he was genuinely concerned that something might go wrong. “The bar he ended up in was clearly a gay bar. He took home a dark haired, skinny guy. It was weird at the time, but it was also the only time.”

“So Harvey’s gay?” Rachel muses.

“Bi, I think. There have been plenty of women and they don’t seem disappointed.” Mike laughs and then hauls Rachel into his lap. “Tell you what, instead of discussing Harvey’s sex life, let’s explore our own.” He presses his lips to Rachel’s softly, but she deepens the kiss quickly, licking into his mouth. They stay like that for a while, before she draws back.

“What about you?” she asks, her eyebrow quirked.

“What about me?” Mike asks warily.

“Ever thought about it?”

Mike doesn’t answer immediately because he realises that she’s left the question particularly ambiguous. Does she mean has he experimented with men (once, when stoned, it didn’t go well and he doesn’t like to talk about it) or does she mean has he thought about it with Harvey (yes; after that night and for several weeks afterwards, but he has Rachel and that means something to him). He drags her closer and answers by pressing his erection up into her thigh. It’s not an answer though, because even he isn’t sure whether it’s Rachel that’s got him turned on, or if it’s the idea of being with Harvey.

To distract her—and himself—he slides his hands up under her top and allows his thumbs to brush teasingly over her nipples. She gasps and sinks her teeth into her lower lip. He does it again and again until she begins to writhe in his lap.

“Bed?” he asks.

“No, here,” she whispers into his ear, before nibbling down his neck. Then further.

Rachel gives great blow jobs, but they are sparse. Just because she’s good at it doesn’t mean she enjoys it is her argument, but is seems that tonight he might just get lucky. She presses hot kisses to his chest, his shirt pushed up to his neck. She slides lower, licking around his belly button while she undoes the belt on his jeans. He lifts up a little as she shimmies them down his hips along with his boxes.

His cock is hard and he can literally feel the blood as it pounds through his body and down to his erection. Painstakingly slowly, Rachel slips her mouth over the purplish head and then down the shaft. She takes him completely, her throat open. God, he desperately wants to fuck into her throat but he controls the urge, allowing her to set the pace and the rhythm. He doesn’t want to hurt her, and it’s still good even as he works to pin his hips to the couch.

The control threatens to slip when he realises that she is fingering herself. She moans around his cock and the vibrations sing through him, setting every sense on fire. His orgasm begins to burn in his stomach and he pulls her off. She pushes herself up to her feet, kicking her pyjama bottoms of in the process, and then lowers herself over him, guiding his cock into her tight heat.

Mike moans at the sensation of being inside her. He thrusts a little, then again, until he can increase their pace. Rachel begins to moan above him as he presses a thumb to her clitoris, rubbing just the way he knows she likes. She tears her top off and presents her pert breasts for him to lave and mouth and worship.

In a swift movement, he flips them around so that her back is pressed to the couch and he can thrust deeper, harder. She runs sharp nails up his spine and gooseflesh ripples across his skin. He presses his eyes closed and the image that presents itself is not new, but it is startlingly erotic. Harvey’s eyes burn into his own from where he sits behind his desk. Only Mike is aware that they are both completely naked and Harvey is fisting himself lazily. Mike knows he should push the image away, but he also reasons that Rachel helped put it there and he is fully aware that it is Rachel he is currently fucking. Elongating the strokes, he tries to imagine what it would be like to fuck Harvey, to feel the walls of Harvey’s ass around his cock as he pounds into him.

Then, with a gasp, he realises that he is imagining Harvey’s cock in his ass, the sensation of being filled completely as he is fucked into every imaginable surface. His climax shoots through him and deep into Rachel with little warning. The suddenness of it is not the surprise though; it is the intensity of it. His vision is white, he can’t hear anything above the rush of blood in his ears and his extremities vibrate.

“Shit!” he moans, collapsing onto Rachel below him.

He doesn’t even know if she got to come.

He’s not sure he cares.


	3. It hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story moves along ;) Hey! I'm trying not to give too much away here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very sorry for the extremely long time it has taken me to update this. I really haven't forgotten about it, just a very busy time of year for me with my proper job! Tried to make this a good, long update with plenty of plot. Enjoy!

It’s late—or early—but the city is still bright against the black sky. Harvey stares unseeing, though, his mind wandering about in circles, the scotch in his hand long forgotten. It’s cold too. His jacket, tie and vest long since abandoned in the main room, he stands alone on the balcony. His shoes and socks are gone too. When did he remove them?  
Mike’s eyes haunt him. Over dinner at the steak house, Mike’s joy radiated from him. His happiness. Harvey wants that for himself, for the first time in his life, he wants to be happy and loved and in love.  
Maybe the last part is already true.  
His cell phone hums in his pocket for what has to be the ninth or tenth time. Harvey has been ignoring it without intention, he hears it and forgets in the next second. This time though, the hum is more insistent. Ringing then, not a message.  
“Yes,” he barks into the phone, holding it lightly against his ear and sipping at the now remembered scotch.  
“Harvey? Is everything okay?” Mike’s voice is thick, hoarse with concern.  
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Harvey replies tonelessly.  
“You haven’t replied to any of my messages, which isn’t like you. I nearly came over to make sure everything was all right.”  
“I’m a grown man, I can take care of myself.”  
“I know,” Mike sniffed, “But you aren’t yourself at the moment. It’s been three weeks, three weeks without Donna, but you seem to be—” The younger man cuts off his own train of thought and the pause on the line is heavy with anticipation.  
“Be what, Mike?” Harvey asks, genuinely curious. He feels dead, a shadow sliding around in his own life. Does he seem that way to Mike?  
“Never mind,” Mike sighs. He doesn’t hang up, though, and Harvey has no idea what he’s waiting for.  
“It’s not like you to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself, Mike.”  
“You aren’t interested in my opinion.”  
“I am. Always.” Harvey’s words are loaded and it unsettles Mike, who has been sitting alone in the darkness of his living room for over an hour trying to pluck up the courage to just call him. Now that he has, he doesn’t know what to say or why the call seemed so important. It’s clear that Harvey is hurting and he desperately wants to make things better for his friend. But he has absolutely no idea what else he can do.  
“I just wanted to confirm our appointment was still on for tomorrow, that you had arranged everything with Rene like you said you would.”  
“Of course. Amy confirmed today.”  
“How is Amy?” Mike asks with a smile in his voice.  
“She’s good,” Harvey replies. And she is. Efficient, organised, thorough, and professional. It is her refusal to cross that last boundary, to tell him what she really thinks (and needs to hear) and to call him on his shit, that is holding them back. “Good,” he hums again.  
“Good,” Mike echoes. There is another silence. “Tomorrow then.”  
Harvey hangs up.

“Everything okay?” Rachel’s voice drifts across the darkness and startles Mike. The phone, still cradled in his hand, is warm now. How long has he sat there, staring at the small piece of metal and plastic?  
“Yes.” His nod is perfunctory, cool.  
“Come to bed?”  
He looks up then and sees his beautiful, and mostly naked, fiancée as she watches him.  
“Sure. Gotta take a shower first.”  
Mike sees a moment of hesitation in Rachel’s eyes, as though she wants to say something. Instead, she smiles thinly and disappears into their room, her concern barely hidden beneath the fatigue of a law student.  
Mike turns the water up and stands under the jets for a few moments. Harvey is drifting, untethered from this world. Can it really be that this is all about Donna? Sure, they were close, but Mike has never known Harvey to wallow for so long without action. He strains his brain trying to find any clue at all that there might be something else going on, something more.  
He followed him again. On three separate occasions. Mike knows that Ray knows, because he saw him that second time. He didn’t say a word though—just nodded softly and slipped back into the car. The second time. Mike shudders at the memory. He followed Harvey into a small bar, almost non-descript. The lighting was low but it was clear the clientele were of the mostly male persuasion. Mike watched Harvey slump at the bar, watched him order drink after drink. His third scotch took longer because he was approached, had an in depth conversation with a younger man. He was blonde, fairly well built. It was clear they had met before and that the other man was angry with Harvey who, in true lawyer style, managed to appease and calm his companion.  
But that wasn’t what stunned him. Later, after blondie had left, Harvey picked up another. This one only a little younger than Harvey himself. Mike—stupid, stupid Mike—followed them into the bathroom. Hunched on the seat of the toilet in the next available stall, Mike listened to Harvey and the other man. He was hot, ashamed at his presence but knew he couldn’t leave. They would hear, they would know that someone had been there.  
The worst part was not hearing the grunts and moans and the smacking of flesh from the stall, but what it did to him. Mike felt his own body begin to respond, his cock thickened in his pants and his pulse rate increased. His breaths were short, hot pants as he listened. Voyeurism had never been his thing, and certainly not gay porn, but the sounds and then smells tipped him over the edge. He had come in his pants without touching himself once.  
Now, with the hot water running down his back, his cock is behaving in much the same way. The memories play back on a loop; Harvey's breathless moans echo through his brain, and he strokes himself firmly though an orgasm that seems to draw itself from each and every extremity.  
Silently, he slips from the shower and dries himself roughly. He is spent and exhausted, this thing between his brain and his cock clearly not resolved but sated for now. He slips under the covers and Rachel wraps herself around him. She is naked, her hot breasts pressed against his back. She reaches round and strokes at his dick, but despite her efforts it remains soft.  
“Too tired. Sorry, Rach,” Mike mutters, the heat of embarrassment flushing his face.  
“It’s okay,” she says gently, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. He feigns an almost instant sleep. She waits a short while, checks to be sure he is sleeping, and then he feels her rub herself off before turning away completely. Mike did that. He left her cold and unsatisfied. His eyes closed to the darkness, he tries hard to be sorry about that, but instead his mind drifts back to Harvey and he floats away into a dreamless, restless sleep.

“Hey, Harvey!” Mike calls as he crosses the lobby. They slide into the elevator together and there is another uncomfortable silence. Mike glances at Harvey several times before he manages to find the confidence to speak.  
“I’m sorry for calling you last night. I know you don’t need anyone checking up on you, least of all me.” Mike has realised in the last twelve hours that he was checking to see if Harvey was with another man. He doesn’t want to face why.  
“It’s forgotten. Where are we on the Adam Nicholson divorce?”  
“Where we should be. The PI found the evidence of her cheating and has verified that he was the perfect gentleman. We can easily prove she broke the terms of their pre-nup.”  
“Case closed,” Harvey mutters.  
“I suppose, if the destruction of a marriage is a reason to celebrate.” Mike stuffs his hands into his pockets, the topic highly inappropriate considering where they were going.  
“Change of subject?” Harvey asks, turning to Mike and smiling softly. It’s the most genuine expression Mike has seen in weeks and he gasps out a huff of laughter.  
“That would be great,” Mike smiles in reply.

The ride to Rene’s is normal, or more normal than it has been. They discuss basketball stats and recent stories from the courthouse and the upcoming Star Trek movie—which Harvey is sure he will hate—but they don’t discuss themselves. Not at all.  
Harvey opens the door for Mike and guides him inside with the gentlest of a touch, hand pressed to lower back. Mike notices, hyper-aware of everything around him, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.  
“Harvey!” Rene greets them with kisses to cheeks and warm embraces. “Wedding suits I hear!” Rene continues, and he turns a beaming smile to Mike.  
“Yes,” Mike agrees uncomfortably.  
“A lovely surprise! A wonderful surprise!” Rene continues.  
“Surprise how?” Mike asks, momentarily confused.  
“I didn’t realise you were both so open about your relationship,” Rene replies happily.  
“What?” Harvey splutters. His face is red, but it is the red of shock and embarrassment, not anger.  
“We’re not . . . I mean . . . I’m marrying Rachel, from the firm,” Mike stutters.  
“Oh, of course! Silly me!” Rene laughs before guiding them through to the back room. He doesn't seem embarrassed in the slightest, and Mike shrugs it off quickly.

They look at bolts of fabric and colour swatches and styles and designs. Harvey nods and hums through it all, as though he truly cares, but Mike struggles to focus.  
“What colour theme are you having?” Harvey asks. When Mike just stares at him dumbly, Harvey shakes his head and presses his phone to his ear.  
“Rachel? Colour theme? Red and gold? Absolutely not! Will do. Goodbye.”  
Mike continues to stare.  
“Rachel said she’ll be late tonight, a lecture, and you mustn’t wear stripes.”  
Mike nods but his silence is beginning to worry Harvey.  
“What’s up kid?” he asks. He has been enjoying the relative normalcy of their day, has managed to push indecent thoughts of Mike out of his mind for a few hours and just enjoy his company.  
Mike smiles and Harvey feels it in his gut. “Nothing. Everything’s good. Normal even!” Mike slaps Harvey on the arm and the sensation of the contact shudders through Harvey, who fights to control himself.

They go to dinner. It’s not a regular occurrence, but not the first time in the last three weeks. In fact, Harvey has noticed that Mike has invited him out more often than usual. If Rachel is working, he calls Harvey. Sometimes Harvey agrees, but mostly he fobs him off. Tonight though, facing Mike when he asked, he genuinely can’t think about being anywhere else.

Dinner is good, but drinks after are better. They relax, the liquor opening up their tongues, until they are laughing and joking like they always have, movie quotes tossed around like confetti. Now, Harvey watches as Mike takes another long pull of whiskey and sinks a little lower in his chair. Harvey is swimming just below the surface of panic. Right now, in this moment, he wants. Desperately. Mike’s eyes are hooded, dark, and seem to be watching Harvey’s every move.  
“You okay, Harv?” Mike asks, all innocence and playfulness, and Harvey’s gut twists.  
“Think it’s time I was heading home,” he says quietly, placing his now empty glass in the centre of the low table they’ve hunkered over for the last couple of hours.  
“Home. Yeah, okay.” Mike says it with a Harvey-worthy derisive snort, and the older man isn’t really sure what that means.  
“Yes. Home, Michael. Where there is a bed and the possibility of a decent night’s sleep before the god-awful deposition in the morning."  
Mike stands and shoves his hands in his pockets. He stares at Harvey with shades of anger, worry and grief in his eyes, before he wrenches his gaze away and stares at his feet.  
“See you tomorrow then.”  
He is gone. Before Harvey has a chance to say or do anything, he is just gone. Harvey sits for a few long moments, watching the world pass by outside the bar. He calls Ray who collects him even though it’s late and he really does have other clients and other responsibilities.  
“No Mike?” Ray asks casually, tugging open the door.  
“No. He left earlier.”  
“Home, or out, Mr Specter?”  
Harvey pauses in the open doorway and thinks. He could go home where he would be alone, free to wallow. Or he could go out and be less alone. Only, less alone hasn’t fixed anything. His mind churns over and over before giving Ray an address. If the driver is surprised he doesn’t show it, just closes the door behind his client and slides into the drivers seat.

“Harvey?” Donna looks as surprised as she sounds. She is dressed casually, and Harvey has always liked this non-Donna side to herself, though he rarely saw it.  
“Can I come in?” he asks and she nods, drawing back and allowing him past.  
“Are you all right? You look awful.” And there’s the Donna he knows and loves—blunt, to the point, and right on the nose.  
“I’ve missed you,” he says in reply, the words soft, barely above a whisper.  
“You were meant to,” is Donna’s curt reply. She isn’t in the mood to play his games.  
“I have a problem, Donna. A big one. It’s huge, enormous, the magnitude of it overwhelms me and I have no way to solve it. And I need you to be, well, you, and help me out.”  
If she hadn’t already figured it out, she knows in that moment that Harvey will never want her as anything more than just an incredibly awesome best friend. Her heart doesn’t break, because with the distance they’ve had she has come to realise that she had idolised Harvey. The pedestal she placed him on was unfair, and unrealistic. She told him to move on and he did.  
“You want a drink?” she asks, refocusing on him and pushing her own sadness away (and hasn’t she always done this, put him first, even before herself? This is the very, very last time, she swears it on the gods of alcohol, great sex and fantastic shoes).  
“No, already had too many.”  
She gestures towards the sofa and he throws his coat over a nearby high-backed chair before slumping onto the nearest cushion. He puts his face in his hands and realises just how screwed up this is. He knows, in the very centre of himself, how Donna feels about him. But he has no-one else. Only Mike—and he can’t discuss this with him. Jesus—he is so messed up!  
“Harvey?” Donna’s voice is as soft as her palm on his shoulder. She tries to think back to the last time she saw him like this. Probably after Scottie? No, this is worse. Zoe maybe? Zoe had been the one, or at least Donna had thought so, but Zoe and Harvey couldn’t see a way through that.  
The realisation hits her—Harvey is in love with someone, and this time it’s not easy or controllable or right. Because he is crying. She pulls him in and wraps her arms around him. This time, her heart breaks a little. Not because she is jealous, not because he loves someone other than her, but because it is hurting him. Harvey sobs the uncontrollable tears of someone in agony and Donna soothes the best way she knows. This isn’t them, he doesn’t break down and she doesn’t build up; their role reversal would be funny if it wasn’t so awful.

Half an hour passes before Harvey is ready to speak. He sits, stiff and pale, and a good distance from Donna.  
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice broken.  
“Don’t be. I’m sorry, sorry that something is upsetting you so much. Talk to me, it’s why you came here.”  
Harvey regards her. Hair in a loose knot at the base of her skull, face fresh and free from makeup, feet curled up beneath her: he is reminded of the Donna who accosted him in a bar and talked him into letting her work for him. He smiles sadly and Donna nods a little encouragement.  
“It’s Mike.”  
Whatever Donna was expecting, it wasn’t that. She thinks back over the last forty minutes or so and is certain that her Donna-senses haven’t failed her. She knows Harvey has dabbled in the past, but men were never a permanent fixture.  
“What about him?” she coaxes, unwilling to put words in his mouth this time.  
“I see him with Rachel. I like Rachel, she doesn’t take all my shit like other associates, and she’s going to be a great lawyer, and she’s beautiful and witty, and she works so damned hard and—” Harvey stops himself, the uncharacteristic rambling catching even him off guard. “But I see them together and I just want to die.”  
“You’re in love with Rachel?” Donna is confused by Harvey’s outburst.  
“No. I am in love with Mike. I think, maybe, I always have been.”  
“Well.” Donna blows out a puff of air. “Shit.”  
“Indeed,” Harvey replies. Then he laughs bitterly. “And you know what the worst thing is? I am pretty sure,” he continues, without pause, “that Mike has never even considered the whole guy-sex thing. But he’s marrying someone else. He has a real chance at a family, something he’s barely had for so long. I can’t take that away.”  
Donna shuffles forward and lifts Harvey’s face to her own with the tips of her fingers.  
“Harvey. You can’t live like this. You have to choose. Tell him and risk losing him altogether, or put some serious distance between you both and try to move on.”  
“Distance doesn’t work,” Harvey mutters. “I do stupid things when we’re apart.”  
“Like?” Donna asks, but then she looks into his eyes and knows—just knows. “Oh, Harvey,” she sighs. He smiles a watery smile, his eyes red and puffy. She stands up and holds a hand out. Harvey questions her with a frown.  
“We are going to bed,” Donna says. Harvey’s astounded and slightly horrified expression makes her laugh loudly. “To sleep, Harvey. You need to rest, it’s late and maybe, in the morning, we can figure something out.”  
Harvey reaches up and takes her offered hand and she leads him to her bedroom. For only the second time in his life, he allows Donna to take him to bed. She curls up into him, and he spoons himself around her, allowing himself to take comfort from the warmth of her skin and the scent of her hair. He drifts away slowly, quietly, to the gentle breathing of his very best friend in the whole world.

“Mike?”  
“Hey, Rach.” Mike shrugs off his coat and hangs it by the door.  
“You’re late,” she says, the question in her voice plain.  
“Harvey and I had dinner and then drinks.”  
“Ah.” Rachel’s voice has started to take on a strange tone whenever they talk about Harvey which, considering they both work for him, is quite a lot. Mike sighs and then toes off his shoes. He just needs to get the man out of his mind. Needs to stop masturbating about him in the shower, needs to stop wondering what he’s doing and how he’s feeling every minute of the day. Maybe he just needs to have sex with the woman he is going to marry and spend the rest of his life with.  
“Come here,” he murmurs and she drifts towards him. She is wrapped in a short satin robe that he slips his hands underneath with ease. Her skin is soft, feminine, her curves just perfect. Harvey’s face slips into Mike’s mind, the abs he knows are beneath the shirts he armours himself in. Frustrated, Mike buries his face in Rachel’s neck and inhales, trying to drive Harvey away. Without warning, a gut-wrenching sob rocks him and Rachel draws back, fear lighting her eyes.  
“Mike? What’s wrong? What is it?”  
“I . . . nothing,” he replies, reaching for her again.  
“No. It’s something. What’s going on?” She is holding him at arm’s length and staring at him.  
“It’s nothing. Really. I’m just tired.”  
“No, that’s not it.”  
And why does she have to be so perceptive, so observant.  
“What’s going on with you and Harvey?” she asks bluntly. The question winds Mike, who struggles to control the crashing in his ears, the sound of his life cracking apart and collapsing under its own weight.  
“Nothing,” he sniffs. “He’s my boss, he’s your boss!” Mike offers with a wave of his hands.  
“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” she says. Her arms wrapped tightly about herself now, she steps further back. The distance between them is arctic. Mike can’t answer, doesn’t know how to refute what she says. He has no idea what he feels right now. Harvey is in every waking minute, even in his dreams, and Rachel barely factors. He hates it and he hates himself.  
“I’ll take the couch,” he says, shuffling around her statue-like form and grabbing the throw over from the chair. He flops onto the too-short couch, tugs the blanket over his middle and blows out an exasperated breath. “We’ll discuss this in the morning,” he says, “When you are more rational.”  
He flicks the lamp off and turns away, effectively severing what little connection remained between them.

When Mike wakes the next morning, the bedroom is empty and his grandmother’s ring is on the table next to his wallet and his phone. Rachel is gone.


	4. The end is the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's late. But it is the end. Thank you for sticking with it.

“Harvey.”  
“Rachel.” It takes mere seconds for Harvey to realise something is wrong and, despite the fact he’s not sure he wants to get in the middle of it, he knows he should ask.  
“Everything all right?”  
“Have you spoken to Mike this morning?” she replies cryptically. Harvey shakes his head with a curl of his lip—no, he hasn’t seen him yet. “Everything is just fine,” she continues. After setting down three folders on his desk, she leaves in silence.  
Odd.  
Desperate not to read anything into it, Harvey focuses back on work.  
Donna watches the whole scene unfold thoughtfully. Rachel is clearly upset, but has refused thus far to discuss it. Harvey is none the wiser and Donna, well, she hates not knowing.

Two cups of coffee in hand, Donna makes her way to Mike’s office. She pastes on her patented Donna-knows-all smile, softens her eyes and breezes through the door way.  
Mike isn’t there.  
Frustrating as this game is, Donna really does have work to do. She places the coffee on the desk and leaves a note.  
Thought you might need this. You know where I am if you need to talk. D  
As she leaves, her mind races through all the possible options. Clearly Mike and Rachel are fighting—but is it over china patterns or something far more serious.

Mike is late in to work. Normally this would frustrate him, but this morning he can’t seem to focus his mind on anything much. It takes forever to dress, because when he opened the closet he realised that Rachel had taken most of her things. Firstly, he’s angry he slept so heavily that he didn’t hear anything. Secondly, he can’t believe that she’s really gone. He didn’t admit to anything—there was nothing to admit to. It isn’t as if he’s been having an affair. That was her. She was the one who cheated, who kissed another man and then lied.

Mike knows now that he isn’t as ‘over it’ as he had thought. In his head, he’s forgiven her because he truly thought they were meant to be. But his traitorous heart, with its own stubborn opinion, doesn’t seem to have been so forthcoming. He is still angry at her.

But hasn’t he been cheating on her? Even if they are only fantasies, he has been thinking about someone else when he touches her, kisses her, makes love to her. It is this very thinking that has led to his lack of movement. Shirt, pants, socks—the sum total of his clothing so far. Frustrated with himself and his confusion, he forces himself into his vest and jacket and drags himself out the door.

It is only as he is in the elevator that he thinks about what he will say when he sees her. And he will, the world is cruel like that. Should he apologise? (Tell her the truth; he has been thinking about someone else.) Should he be angry? She cheated, he hasn’t (yet). As the door slides open he makes the non-decision to wait and see what she says to him first. It is cowardly and weak; he can’t find enough energy to care.

On his desk is a lukewarm coffee and a note from Donna. He wasn’t even in the building and she knew something was wrong. He downs the caffeine in five large gulps and tosses the paper cup in the trash before flipping open his laptop. He loads his emails and sees the top three are from Harvey, Donna and Rachel in that order.

From: H.Specter@PS.com  
To: M.Ross@PS.com  
RE: Wilson Merger  
You nailed the paperwork. Wilson signed first thing this morning. I owe you a drink.   
H  
(Let me know when you’ve completed the updates for McKernon, I want to check it over before you send it to them)

Mike rolls his eyes: he is not surprised that a congratulations came with an ‘I-still-don’t-trust-you’ caveat.

From: D.Paulsen@PS.com  
To: M.Ross@PS.com  
RE: Rachel

Something is going on. Find me if you need to. If nothing else, talk to her. Before Harvey tries!  
D x

Mike sighs. Of course. He presses delete and braces himself. Deep down, he knows that he has to read the email from Rachel, but he doesn’t want to converse with her that way. It seems cowardly, it cheapens everything they have been through. Still, he clicks open.

From: R.Zane@PS.com  
To: M.Ross@PS.com  
RE: 

I cancelled the venue this morning. We get our deposit back because someone else wants the date. I’ll let you deal with the suits, I sorted the dress. I don’t need anything else from the apartment at the moment, I’ll let you know when I need to call in. If you want the key back sooner, I’ll pass it back. If you must reach me, I’m staying at Carlton Lanes, room 409. 

Talk to him. Tell him. You deserve to know one way or the other.  
Tell him.

Rachel’s words run through Mike’s mind over and over. He hears them in her voice, soft and gentle in his head. She seems to know his feelings better than he does. She cancelled everything and they didn’t discuss it and—

Mike is at sea. Lost in a jumble of pain and hurt and loss.

“Hey, Mike?”  
Mike glances up straight into the concerned eyes of Harvey. “What’re you doing? Right now?”  
For several long seconds, Mike just stares at him. Harvey can see the younger man’s mind whirling, and he waits.   
“Nothing,” Mike replies finally; the word is melancholic.  
“Come on, we’re going to lunch.”  
“It’s not even ten in the morning.”  
“Brunch then.” Harvey waits, hands tucked casually away in his pockets and gestures with a nod. Mike is shaking his head before he knows he is going to say no. He has to deal with the Rachel stuff first. Despite her advice—demand?—he has to speak with her first.  
“I’m sorry, I can’t.” He sounds broken and Harvey’s expression goes from concern to outright worry.  
“Are you sure?” he probes, but Mike has shut down. “Later then, maybe?” He walks back to his own office before Mike can respond.

Rachel’s office is quiet. The photographs on the wall are piecemeal snapshots of a life they lived together. She is there. Neat and proper, hair in place, face painted. But her eyes are an agony of colour, the warm chocolate brown now a cold caramel colour.  
“Please, don’t,” she whispers as he closes the door behind himself. He ignores her. They owe each other this.  
“Tell me what happened,” he asks.  
“You know,” she sniffs. A single tear slips from her eye and rolls silently down her cheek. Mike reaches to wipe it away but she draws back quickly, dabbing at her face with a tissue that was obviously in her hand/  
“I don’t understand. I love you,” Mike says. She studies him for a moment and he wonders what she sees.  
“I believe you,” she begins. “It took a lot for you to forgive me, after Logan, and I know you would only do that if you loved me. But what you feel for him, it outweighs your love for me.”  
Mike chokes back a sob, his own eyes burn with unshed tears. She is convinced and Mike feels resignation replace panic in his chest.  
“I don’t know what happened,” he says honestly and Rachel smiles at him. It is gentle and warm and Mike wants to collapse in her arms as he has so many other times. “I still love you, I want to be with you.”  
“I know,” she sighs, “But I can’t share you with him. And I will always have to. Can you see that?”  
“I don’t love him,” Mike replies, anger colouring his tone and a hot flush creeping into his cheeks.  
“You do, you just haven’t named it yet.”  
“I feel empty. Why do I feel like everything’s gone?”  
“It’s supposed to, Mike. You’re leaving a part of you behind with me, just like when your grandmother died and took some, and your parents. But there is so much passion inside you, you will survive.”

Their tears fall in rivers and their hearts fracture and splinter under the weight of it. Rachel stands and holds Mike, pulls him into her until their breaths mingle, until their sobs ease.  
“I don’t know how to be alone,” Mike whispers.  
“You won’t be. You haven’t been alone in a really, really long time.”

 

In the bathroom, Mike washes his face and stares into his eyes. He can’t see beyond the hurt. Cold blue, empty, lifeless—his eyes stare back at him. He wants it all to stop, to end. The door swings open and Mike’s heart stops for a brief moment, he prays it isn’t Louis or—God forbid—Harvey. Instead Donna appears.  
“Tell him.” It’s all she says before she disappears again.

 

Darkness fell a couple of hours ago, but Harvey still sits on his balcony and listens to the world beneath him pass him by. Donna, Rachel, Mike—they’ve all been acting weirdly all day, and it’s exhausted Harvey who hasn’t been able to get to the bottom of it. Now, with the warm glow of whiskey in his belly, he decides to let it go.

It takes a moment for him to realise that someone is knocking at his door. Soft, timid. Confused, Harvey stands and makes his way to the door, leaving his glass on an end table as he goes.   
“Mike?”  
Mike gapes at him from the doorway. His eyes are red rimmed and, if Harvey didn’t know better, he would say the associate was stoned. Mike, on the other hand, stares back at the half-dressed Harvey before him. No jacket, vest, tie, socks or shoes—it’s the most naked he’s ever seen him. “Are you going to come in?” Harvey asks, standing back to let Mike past. The younger man stumbles through the door and heads towards the couch in the living room. He slumps down and then buries his face in his hands.  
“What the hell happened?” Harvey demands, sitting next to Mike and resting a warm hand on his shoulder.  
“Rachel left.” Mike can’t stop it then, can’t hold back the desolation he feels at the end of this journey. Some part of him knows it is unfair to unload this on Harvey, but he can’t help himself. Harvey is the best friend he has, the only friend really.  
“I’m sorry,” Harvey says, his voice low and dark. Mike sobs brokenly, his elbows on his denim-clad knees, his eyes buried in the palms of his hands.  
Harvey is lost, emotional awareness isn’t his strongest suit. After a few moments of watching the collapse in front of him, he shifts forward and wraps his arms around Mike, drawing his blonde head onto his chest and waiting.

It takes some time for Mike’s crying to end, and even longer for either of them to move away. Mike feels safe with Harvey, in a way far different to being with Rachel. He was there to protect her, to keep her safe, but Harvey protects him and, right now, it’s the only thing he wants.  
“Can you talk about it?” Harvey asks gently as Mike draws away and into his own space. “Only if you want to, of course.”  
“She thinks I’m in love with someone else.”  
“Did you cheat on her?” Harvey asks—though his tone is accusatory.  
“No,” laughs Mike weakly, “Never. That’s not the kind of man I am.”  
Harvey nods, he knows this. “Then what?” he asks.  
“She thinks I’m in love with you.”  
Harvey’s heart takes a rather suicidal leap from his stomach to his throat and pounds frantically. “Are you?” he asks around the over-worked organ. Blood rushes in his ears as he waits for Mike to look at him, or answer, or laugh wildly. None of these things happens and the silence around them thickens and grows.

Finally, Mike turns to look at Harvey. His mentor, his saviour, his friend. Can he add lover to that list? Sure, his fantasies have been filled with the warm gaze and perfect hair that is Harvey Specter. But the man is a mess, broken in so many ways. Mike’s not sure if Harvey could even feel that way about him, never mind how he feels himself.  
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, because Harvey deserves that.  
“Have you ever been with a man before?” Harvey asks. This time his gaze is more heated, more wanton and lust-filled, and Mike is shaken a little. He shrugs non-committedly. Experimentation aside, the answer would be no.  
Harvey stands slowly and holds out his hand. He waits as Mike processes the gesture.  
“I just broke up with my fiancée, Harvey,” Mike says, wearily.  
“This isn’t a declaration of love,” because Harvey is battling frantically to keep his own emotions and desperation out of this discussion. “Just come with me, let me make love to you. Just this once. Let’s have one night for us. No strings.”  
“There’s the Harvey I know,” Mike scoffs derisively, and Harvey is hurt for a moment. Then he realises that it’s all Mike does know of him.  
“Trust me,” is all he can bring himself to say. Mike draws in a deep breath and stands up to face Harvey.  
“I don’t do one time things,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking away. Harvey needs Mike now, needs to love him and worship him and make him his own. He steps into Mike’s space and presses and open palm to his cheek. Mike turns pale, watery blue eyes towards him and Harvey’s heart breaks a little. Mike is hurting and Harvey just wants to soothe him.  
“Trust me,” he whispers, his own pain clearer now. Carefully, slowly, he moves until his chest rests lightly against Mikes, and then he kisses him. It is soft, gentle, patient. Harvey pours everything he has into it, probing a little with his tongue and praying that Mike will let him in, in every way imaginable.

Mike’s lips move with his for a moment, and then he gasps and draws back, stares wide-eyed at Harvey.  
“What was that?” he gasps.  
“A kiss,” Harvey replies, and he’s a little embarrassed by how wrecked he sounds.  
“No, it wasn’t a kiss,” Mike replies. Then he is kissing Harvey, pushing himself against the older man and lapping for entry to Harvey’s mouth. As their tongues tangle, Mike’s mind races at the sensations he feels. Harvey moans—he goddamn moans—and Mike realises.

Harvey loves him.

Desperation ripples through him, and he twists the fingers of his right hand into the hair at the nape of Harvey’s neck, changing the angle of their kiss so that it becomes deeper, needier, frantic.  
“Shit!” Harvey gasps, dragging his mouth away from Mike. “I can’t. Please stop.” Harvey turns away and draws in a few shaky breaths.  
“What is it?” Mike asks, fearful and aroused at the same time.  
“I can’t do this with you unless you’re all in. I’ve spent months trying not to think about you, about this, about us. This is more to me than just a quick fuck. I need you, Mike, like I’ve never needed anything before. So, if you don’t want me—this—then I need you to leave. Because—” Harvey stops abruptly and stares at Mike. He said too much and now there’s no going back.  
“Because what?” Mike demands.  
“Because it will kill me to love you and watch you leave. It already has. Every time I watched you with her, a little piece of me died. I knew eventually there would be nothing left. Nothing.” His words are the barest of whispers in the night, but he feels the weight of Mike’s eyes on him.  
And then the weight of Mike on him.

Mike’s lips are soft, warm, wet—they press lightly to the corner of Harvey’s mouth, tiny kisses that work their way inwards. He presses a final kiss on the fullness of Harvey’s mouth and then waits a moment.  
“I want you,” Mike says simply, and Harvey’s eyes snap up to look at him. He stares and Mike smiles, nods and takes his hand.

Under the covers, naked chest to naked chest, Harvey worships Mike. Hot, open mouthed kisses along his jaw draw out deep groans, soft presses of the lips to his collar bone draw out light gasps that fill the air around them. Harvey wants nothing more than to kiss Mike forever, to map his skin with his lips. He works slowly down Mike’s chest, laves across sensitive nipples, traces the outlines of his abs, noses in the v-shape of hair just below his navel.  
“Harvey!” Mike gasps. It’s not a plea, or a question, but a prayer. Harvey obliges. He slips lower and sucks the head of Mike’s cock into his mouth. He groans, he can’t help it, because the stuff of his fantasies is finally coming true—and it’s so much better than he could have imagined. He sucks more of Mike in, while caressing Mike’s balls and perineum. Mike was unclear about how much experience he has, and Harvey doesn’t want to push.

He draws back slowly, sucking, then releases to lick up the underside. Mike writhes below him, fisting Harvey’s hair and whispering nonsense. Harvey smiles and draws Mike’s cock into his mouth once more, and he can feel that Mike is near. He wants his come on his fingers, wants to use it to lube Mike open, and so he draws off and wraps his fingers around Mike’s length. He pumps, twists, flicks, and it takes only moments before Mike’s semen covers his fingers and the palm of his hand. Harvey’s own cock twitches, demanding attention.  
“I want to make love to you, Mike. Can I do that?”  
Mike gazes up at Harvey through a haze of pleasure and nods. “Yes, please yes.”

Harvey pushes Mike’s legs up and back, slides a pillow beneath his hips, and stifles a groan. Mike is half-hard again already, and his ass beckons. He massages a single finger around the tight entrance, rubbing Mike’s own come into the skin. Slowly Mike relaxes, and his ass accepts Harvey’s finger slowly. The stretch is a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, a gentle burn that gives way to the unusual sensation of being filled.  
“Are you okay?” Harvey asks, desperate to add another but more desperate not to upset Mike.  
“I’ve never, that is, I didn’t realise—” Mike pauses and sucks in a breath. “I love you, Harvey. I had no idea it would be like this, could be like this. I’ve never felt like this before.”  
Harvey presses another finger in as he presses his mouth to Mike’s. Harvey feels a tear slide down Mike’s cheek, and then realises it is actually himself who is crying. 

Finally, Mike is ready. Harvey fists his cock, spreading the pre-cum around to lube himself up. Then, slowly, he pushes his cock into Mike’s welcoming body. Mike is hot, tight and perfect, and Harvey pauses for a moment. He waits for Mike’s ass to adjust to the intrusion, before thrusting into his slowly, over and over. When he tilts just a little and hits Mike’s prostate, he feels the same stars that he knows Mike is now seeing. He presses on, thrust after thrust, until his orgasm begins to uncoil within him. Reaching from the very edges of his extremities, drawing in from every cell of his being, it surges through him as he fills Mike with his come. Panting, writhing, gasping beneath him, Mike’s own cock responds and paints their chests with hot white.

Later, after they are clean, after hours of talking and working out just how to make everything work, Harvey wraps Mike in his arms and watches him sleep.  
“I love you,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.  
And as Harvey drifts off into sleep, he swears he feels the walls around his heart crumble away forever.


End file.
